Resurrection After Rape Community Group

Discussion, question-and-answer, general social support, and journal processing for progress-oriented rape survivors. No crisis, no damaging or triggering conflicts--this is for individuals who want to contribute to collective, cooperative action toward the goal of making actual PROGRESS through rape trauma. Much of this work is based on the book "Resurrection After...

Who am I without my pain?

I asked Matt for a journal assignment because I haven't done any writing in awhile and was feeling kinda rusty. He suggested that I write about the following statement that I made to him during treatment....

"Who am I without my pain? I've always been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. But, if I find my life has value, would I still be willing to make that sacrifice?"

A little background is in order. Until very recently, I worked representing death row inmates in federal court. Ever since I can remember, I have been vehemently opposed to the death penalty (not trying to spark a debate here, just stating historical fact). Part of my passion for the work manifested itself in my absolute belief that, if given the opportunity, I would trade my life for the life of any one of my clients. In other words, if I could be strapped to the gurney and take the hot shot for them, I would. Of course and in reality, this would never be an option. But, if it were, I would.

Early on in treatment, Shannon made a connection between the traumas I had endured and my choice of career. In short, because of the guilt and shame I felt, I saw myself as beyond redemption in much the same way that society views those on death row. If I couldn't redeem myself, maybe I could convince the world that the people I was advocating for had value -- that their lives were worth something. Very insightful on her part and something I had never considered.

My greatest struggle in treatment was forgiving myself and learning to see myself as having value. In a very real way, I wasn't angry at the rapists, I was angry at myself. I was a peer sexual health educator in college. I went around to dorms and talked to students about safe sex practices and how to protect themselves on a college campus. Don't walk alone at night, I told them. Don't go to frat parties by yourself -- always with a group. Don't drink to excess, especially in an unfamiliar environment. Common sense stuff, right? So what did I do? I went to a frat party alone and drank an obscene amount of alcohol and chased it with pot. What happened? I was gang raped by at least seven members of the fraternity. I saw what happened to me less as a crime and more of failure on my part -- a failure to practice what I had preached. I saw myself as a worthless hypocrite and failure. I transferred to a different school the following year. I had a part-time job working in a restaurant and made friends with one of the servers. He invited me to his house one night to watch a movie. So I went. What did I do? I drank a big bunch of Jack Daniels and smoked a big bunch of pot. What happened? He raped me, on his couch, while I had my head in a trash bag puking my guts up. How could this have happened again? Didn't I learn my lesson the first time? Maybe I had it coming -- maybe he was just treating me like the piece of garbage that I was. I took all the pain, all the trauma, and all the degradation that I had endured and I internalized them. At that point I figured that if I was human toilet, I might as well act like one.

I turned to the internet and sought out men who would degrade and abuse me -- who would treat me like the filth that I saw myself as. If a man was nice to me, he had to go. Kindness, affection, and respect were a threat to the identity I carved out for myself. If anyone saw me as having worth, they had to be an idiot, not able to see the real me -- the real me the way I saw myself. I carried this self-hatred with me for years and right into Matt's group.

I fought every step of the way to hold on to that self-loathing. I wore it like a suit of armor. If I took it off and set it down, who would I be? I had seen myself as garbage for so long, I was afraid of having to get to know the woman underneath. The devil that you know, right? As hard as I fought, Matt and Shannon never gave up on me. They saw the person underneath the pain, even when I couldn't. Slowly but surely, I emerged from underneath the pain to find the person full of life and joy...a person I hadnâ??t seen in close to 15 years. The problem â?? she was a stranger to me.

Thus arose the dilemma. I became a happier and healthier person but I had no idea how to be such a person. Could I still do my job with the same vigor and passion as before? Did I even want to? This whole world of possibilities opened up to me. I realized that even though Iâ??m really good at the work I do, there is no divine mandate that says I have to do it. I can choose to do something, instead, that doesnâ??t expose me to death and destruction. I can choose to do something that doesnâ??t break my heart every minute of every day. What an amazing gift...to see the world for once as place of limitless possibility rather than one of predetermined suffering. I havenâ??t gotten it all figured out yet, but Iâ??m giddy with anticipation for all the wonderful possibilities that come with living a life without self-hatred and pain. Would I still be willing to make that ultimate sacrifice? Probably so. But the real answer to the riddle is that I can choose not to and still feel just as passionate about what I do and what I've done as before.

I wrote all of the above before I was attacked again last Friday. I have struggling so much in the days since â?? not just over being assaulted, but about realizations about myself and my family. This morning I was doing some work on the computer and I remembered that I had written this but never posted it. So, I reread it. I was awe-struck by the drastic changes in how I felt then versus now. When I wrote the journal assignment, I was feeling alive and empowered and strong. In some ways, I was feeling invincible. Part of me is disgusted at the change in my sense of self over just a few days time. Part of me knows that Iâ??m still grieving and that I need to cut myself some slack! Bottom line â?? I know that I am still that strong woman who had chosen to live without pain and without fear. She is still here, but she is wounded and needs to heal. Matt said something to me yesterday that really hit the mark. He said that being a survivor doesnâ??t mean that youâ??re invincible. It means that when you are hurt, you know how to acknowledge the hurt and you face it rather than running from it. So, here is what I say. I am hurting right now. I am in pain and I am suffering. And I accept that as OK for now. I am allowing myself to feel the pain Iâ??m feeling because I know that to do otherwise would be to take myself back to a place where I embrace the pain as part of who I am rather than fighting to overcome it. Because I am a survivor, I have the skills and the implements to tend to wounds and let them heal rather than letting them fester and take hold. Like the pain that came before it, this too shall pass. When I ready and able to do so, I will lay this pain down as well.

No matter how many times I hear stories like this I am amazed. Over and over I hear &quot;you are not to blame, it wasn&#039;t our fault&quot; and over and over I see other women who blame themselves and still I look at my life, and like you, I think, well, yes, but I really AM to blame. I put myself in a place that I knew was unsafe. I brought it on myself. then I hear a story like yours and I think, no, damn it, it should not happen!
I ask myself, why do we do it? Why do intelligent, educated, knowing women still put themselves in danger? I think the answer is that we still always hope, again and again, that we will be able to trust, that we will find the decent men who are not going to behave like animals. We want to feel safe. We can&#039;t feel safe if we have to constantly be on guard. Sometimes we let that guard down and sometimes its ok but too often, it isn&#039;t. too often we pay for that moment of trust, and we pay and pay and pay.

I also felt like I was human garbage. I also gave up and just stopped saying know. You can&#039;t be raped if you never say no, right? Well, that&#039;s not exactly true either, as I found out. But the more it happens, the more times you go through it, the more it just confirms that you are not a good human being. Everyone can see it, right? these monsters are just drawn to you again and again. It must be written on your face...

I didn&#039;t mean to ramble like that. It&#039;s just that your story really struck a chord with me. Like others I have heard, I could have written it myself. I just wanted to tell you that I understand -- all of it.

Thank you both so much for sharing. This is an intriguing question to me... simply because my sexual abuse started so very young...I&#039;m honestly not sure who I would be without this pain, this experience...if you will. I have read (although I can not attest to its accuracy) that the personality of a human being is completely formed by age 7. Well....I had been raped vaginally and anally many many times before the age of 7. Does this mean that he changed the slate of who I would have been? Did he &#039;make me into a different person&#039;? Would I be a different person without having gone through all of this Hell? I am not sure. That one I shall ponder and keep notes for a more in depth writing later. Better get myself through RAR in its entirety first....but that is definitely a thought-provoking question to be certain. And I love your response! You are a very powerful person Heckle...and you shall lay this pain down when the time is right. Much Love to You!

I really like how you think, Victoria. You don&#039;t force your words to be at the top of the conversation (grin!), you don&#039;t wave your thoughts like a banner, you don&#039;t feel the need to react and speak at every passing idea around you. You contemplate, and you question, and you wait patiently for insight to approach you, and it works. Your words aren&#039;t wasted, and you draw directly from things you learned in therapy as you filter the beliefs you host and say. No longer are you emotions a form of hidden parasite; they are your tools, weapons, and friends. I&#039;m so proud of you.

I like the phrase &quot;I need to cut myself some slack.&quot; A few months ago, that sentence would have been two words shorter.

Yes it would have. The thought of cutting again has passed through my mind over the last week, but I didn&#039;t. As you know, I made a promise that I&#039;ve shed the last of my blood at my own hands.

A friend sent this to me..As far as I can see, grief will never truly end.It may become softer overtime, more gentleand some days will feel sharp.But grief will last as long as Love does - ForeverIt's simply the way the absence of your loved onemanifests in your heart. A deep longing accompaniedby the deepest Love some days. The heavy fog mayreturn and the next day, it may recede.Once again, it's...

theatre and I are there already. I'm having a very berry tea with crackers, cheese and cherry tomatoes and she's having a joint with some beer and we're both on really comfy recliners on thick pile carpet. we need some help with the decor if anyone is around??

All content posted on this site is the responsibility of the party posting such content.
Participation on this site by a party does not imply endorsement of any other party's content,
products, or services. Content should not be used for medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.